If you are a member of the horde, you can feel it in your bones. The cold snap that just settled reminds you of dark mornings spent waiting in a parking lot, watching for a chance to take out your enemies before the melee begins. The ads that permeate all media, exhorting you to set your sights on the largest, cheapest prize. The tired voices of those poor souls conscripted to aid the Shameless Servants of Mammon in their quest to stretch your single day of glorious battle into a meaningless exercise in uncaring avarice.
Holy warriors of St. Conan, stay strong. Confine your battle to the appointed day, the proper feast day of your saint. Reject the dishonorable advances of Mammon and his Servants, those who open their doors on Thanksgiving Day and in doing so force their workers to forego feasting with their own families. Choose your fields of battle honorably from among those merchants who reject the sweet golden whispers of Mammon, no matter what their reasoning, and stay closed on Thanksgiving day. And above all, ignore those among you who mock your efforts to retain your honor as ineffectual or even hypocritical – they are no more than bleating sheep, and so unworthy of your attention.
May the grace of St. Conan be with you on his coming holy feast day, and may his blessing guide you to personal if not financial victory as you venture forth to join the melee on a cold Friday morning. And please try not to kill or maim any store employees, they don’t get paid enough for that – their Black Friday servitude doesn’t come with hazard pay.